Distinguishing Between Man And Beast
by Hope Shalott
Summary: A collection of one shots focusing on Tori and Derek.
1. The Lies We Tell Ourselves

**Disclaimer: **Characters belong to Kelley Armstrong. Story is produced without profit.

**Characters: **Tori/Derek

**Status: **Completed one shot

**Rating: **K

**Warnings: **None

**Inspirations: ** -

**Summary:** He's had to change everything about himself so he can be accepted. Tori understands that better than anyone.

…

**The Lies We Tell Ourselves**

...

_Why are you here, Tori?_

The question rings in her ears, the answer sticks in her throat. She tries to force it out because she doesn't know what it is either and some part of her wants a reason.

"Where else am I supposed to go?" But she regrets asking as soon as the words leave her mouth. She knows he doesn't really care.

"There must be somewhere." He folds his arms, tries to intimidate her, but she is not a whimpering Necro. She's a Witch, and from what Andrew has told her about the experiments, she's a damn good one. Even if that does scare her sometimes. She pulls her shoulders back and lifts her chin. She's so much smaller than him but there's a fire in her eyes to match his own.

He holds her gaze for a moment before he turns away from her with a sneer of disgust and a bitter laugh. "We both know you don't like any one of us. I just don't understand why you stay here."

"Why do you?" She snaps back, sharp enough for him to turn his head in surprise. She already knows he won't answer and she'll bet it's because he doesn't know either. It could be Chloe, more likely Simon, but he's spent so long thinking he's a monster that if it really was any of those, he would have taken off by now.

His eyes glaze over slightly and she can see the thought process working through his brain. Almost like a computer, she thinks. Such a brilliant mind, but she's not impressed. She was taking apart computers and putting them back together again before she was nine. There is nothing he possesses that she doesn't have.

Though their curse is quite different.

"I'm here to keep Simon and Chloe safe," he says, his arms going back to his chest. She snorts. She knew what he was going to say before he did but she doesn't call him on it. Lying to themselves is all they have left.

"Yeah, well I'm here to keep myself safe."

It's never a sure bet, lying to someone with enhanced senses, but she knows he wont search for it. It's easier for him if he believes what she's showing him. He doesn't want to see her as anything more that a cold hearted drama queen, and that suits her just fine.

"I'm serious, Tori. If I feel you're a threat then I'll have no problem getting rid of you."

_Liar_

"Never doubted that, Wolf Boy." And she plasters on a winning smile to go with insult. It hits its mark. He tries to pretend is doesn't but she can see the tension in his jaw and so she decides to run with it. "I mean, that is what you do, isn't it? It's almost normal for you, being a cold blooded killer. Right?"

He shifts slightly, muscles coiled and ready to strike. She can see the struggle play across his features and she can pinpoint the exact moment he manages to pull himself back. It's disappointing. She doesn't have a death wish but she can't help but wonder what it would feel like, what it would take to make him rise to the bait.

He smiles, slow and cold, a predators smile. A smile reserved for easy prey, a sure catch and the insult rankles. "Yeah, that's right. It's my nature," he says, with a lazy shrug of his broad shoulders. Then he leans down to her, so close she can feel hot breath on her face and he whispers through gritted teeth, a deadly gleam in his eye. "What's your excuse?"

A cold chill works its way up her spine. "What are you suggesting? How dar-" She strikes out at him and he catches her hand in his.

"You know what I'm talking about. Or did you forget what you did to Chloe?"

She pulls her hand away, fixes him with a snarl worthy of any werewolf. "I don't give a shit about Chloe Saunders."

"Yeah, that's what I'm talking about."

She wants to claw his eyes out of his head, escape from his piercing gaze the only way she knows how. "Get out," she hisses, swallowing hard because she would rather die a thousand times over than let him see her cry. She walks over to the window, watches a stringy furred cat limp away from a dumpster.

He doesn't move quick enough. He is at the door when she marches over to him. She shoves him and he takes a step back, more out of surprise than anything to do with the force of the push.

"You're such a goddam hypocrite. Wailing about how much of a monster you are and how nobody can see the real you and all that _shit._ You're just too interested in yourself and your precious Chloe to see anything. I'm here too. I'm being hunted down, I'm sleeping on dirty floors. I'm cold and fucking hungry but does anybody ask how I am? No. Your all too busy making sure Chloe is all nice and comfy."

His green eyes are wide with something akin to shock. She's pretty sure he's not used to anyone ranting and raving at him but she's too angry to stop.

"You think I don't know that I'm the expandable? That you wouldn't throw me to the wolves, "A bitter laugh at her own pun, "to save any one of the others? You were willing to throw me out on the street, to be killed or raped or god knows what else. You know what kind of monsters are out there and you were going to put me right in the middle of them."

He pales slightly. "I didn't-I wouldn't-." but he cuts off because he knows he would have. He will. He's already considered the consequences of his ultimatum if not completely. She knows this because she would have done the same.

She throws her hands up, lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Hell, even Chloe would hand them over if it meant saving you or Simon. Or herself." she adds as an afterthought.

"You think I want to be here!" she screeches, standing on her tiptoes so she can shout in his face but she's still at least half a foot too short. " I don't. I want to go home. I just want my mother. That's all I want."

And then she breaks. Drops to the floor, head in her hands as hot tears spill down her cheeks. "She doesn't want me. My mom doesn't want me."

Derek is silent. She can feel his eyes on her as she cries. There is no sound but that of her heaving sobs, and then she hears soft footsteps and the click of the door as it closes. She smiles wearily, and swallows down the whirl of emotion that is eating away at her from the inside. She knew he wouldn't stay.

She wouldn't have either.

…..


	2. Cold

**Disclaimer: **Characters belong to Kelley Armstrong. Story is produced without profit.

**Characters: **Tori/Derek

**Status: **Completed one shot

**Rating: **K

**Warnings: **None

**Inspirations: ** -

**Notes:** Written before The Awakening came out so consider it AU.

**Summary:**Her only comfort is the fact that she is the only one strong enough to handle it without cracking. And she's not even sure that's true anymore.

…

**Cold**

...

It's a cold night and she pulls her cardigan around her shoulders to ward off the bitter chill. She winces, fingering the deep claw marks that cover her left shoulder. She really should get hazard pay for this shit.

She can hear moaning coming from the bedroom. A deep, guttural growl that strikes at the very heart of her. It would be funny if it wasn't so tragic. She's called him a monster many times yet it's taken this, him contorting into a freak of nature right before her very eyes, to show her just how wrong she was.

With one last breath of cool night air, and a desperate glance at a world she is no longer a part of, she turns around.

"How is he?"

It's always the same goddamn question. "Still the same." and the answer never changes, but Chloe insists on asking it.

It's amazing the rage that takes over with one glance at her pretty face. She looks fresh...rested. She wants to strike out at her, scream in her ear non stop so she can see how it feels to have too much pain and little peace. Her only comfort is the fact that she is the only one strong enough to handle it without cracking. And she's not even sure that's true anymore.

Rachelle raises an eyebrow from her perch on the battered sofa. Her dark curls are clipped back from her face and her flawless skin is taunting. "Problem, Tor?" the younger girl asks, polite as anything but Tori can hear the challenge in her voice.

"Not at all," she answers with an expression of apathy plastered on a face she knows is anything but perfect. "When is Simon due back?"

"He should be back soon. He's gone to a different store this time. Makes it harder for anyone to track us," Chloe says, her voice confident and sure, despite the fact that she is parroting words from another.

Tori answers with a nod and leaves.

….

Derek is sleeping. His hair is slick with sweat and grease, and she would heave at the stench of vomit and urine if she wasn't so used to it by now. She's given up complaining. They all have their duties and she is good for little else.

She remembers that old saying, about not realising what you have until it's gone. It's never been more true than it is right now. She's swapped her safe, comfy bed, and all life's luxuries, for a sleeping bag on the floor of their dingy apartment and whatever Simon can manage to shoplift. Sometimes she regrets the decisions she has made.

"Chloe?"

She hates it when he says that. "No, it's Tori."

He stares at her for a moment, his eyes glazed and unfocused. Beads of sweat glisten on his brow and she dabs at them with a cloth before he pushes her hand away. His back arches and he clenches his teeth.

"It's okay," she whispers as she gently pushes his shoulders back onto the bed. She can feel muscles and sinew trembling under her fingers, and she runs her hands over his skin in an attempt to work out the knots.

"Where's Chloe?Why are you here" He asks. His voice is husky and holds a slight tremor from howling in pain.

She sighs, working muscle rub into his forearms. "I left with you guys. Don't you remember? We escape-"

"That's not what I mean."

She never even considers the truth. It's far too humiliating to admit that she's willingly given up everything to be a babysitter to a werewolf. She doesn't even know what she's running from. The Edison group? Her mother? Her own insecurities? All she knows is that she's here, and out here, nobody even pretends to care.

What could she possibly say that could ever change that? That they all have duties and she drew he short straw? That hers is the only thing holding her together? She wants to cry at the truth of it all but she won't bother, she never does. The tears of a bitch don't count and people never stop to listen when you've spent your whole life playing the drama queen.

Her duty is simple. Help him through the change and yet doing so has changed her so much more. She's come to depend on him, need him much more than she should.

"It's my job." she says, not unkindly but with little emotion. It's always easier that way.

She brushes a lock of black hair out of her eyes. It's been a while since she's had it cut and she's still not used to the length. It clings to her scalp, itchy and dry, and sometimes she feels like pulling it out at the root.

"How do you feel?" she asks, resting the back of her palm on his forehead. He flinches at the contact and pulls away, a disgusted sneer on his face. His eyes roll back into his head as another tremor takes him. She stuffs a cloth into his mouth, braces herself behind him, arms across his chest as he shakes.

White foam gathers at the corner of his mouth and a gruff wail bubbles in his throat. She can hear the pop of his muscles, the rip of his skin as it twists and changes.

"Don't fight it," she whispers in his ear, and when he doesn't settle she wraps her arms tighter around him. "It's okay. I'm here. You're not alone."

He kicks out as his muscles contract once more, and the process begins again, this time in reverse. His flesh shifts back into place, the dark bristle hair disappears under smooth skin, and his body relaxes. She holds him as he pants with the exertion. His muscles are quivering but his face has settled into a peaceful mask, or at least as close to peace as he can get considering the circumstances. His eyes flutter open as she smoothes a strand of hair off his face.

She swallows down a sharp stab of emotion that she would rather rip her heart out than admit to feeling. "Simon has gone to the store to get food. You've been managing okay with the soup but you can have something solid if you feel like you're ready."

He doesn't answer her .He moves onto his back, swallowing hard and looks up at the ceiling. He looks lost and confused and for one brief selfish moment, she is glad, because there is finally someone else who understands. She wipes the froth from around his mouth, dabs at his hot skin with a wet cloth and he doesn't push her away this time. He turns his head and his look is one of confusion and perhaps, disbelief.

His gaze is piercing, looking straight through her, searching for answers buried so deep that even he won't find them. Tired eyes rest on her shoulder, exposed where her oversized cardigan has slipped down. The emotions flicker across his face too quick for her to define properly. Shame and guilt and pain.

He starts to say something but she cuts him off, because it's too emotional and she can't bear that.

"It's nothing. It fades," she lies. His face crumples and he begins to cry, hot tears spilling over though he bites his lip to try and stop them. She wipes them away with her fingertips. She's had to exist only for him for so long now that it hurts to see him like this. "It's okay," she soothes, "It wasn't your fault. I know that." He looks so young that it startles her for a moment. It's hard to remember that he's only the same age as her.

She pulls back the covers and cleans him down. It used to bother her at first. She'd never seen a naked man before and she hadn't planned to start with Derek Souza but she had long gotten over it. She had no choice but to. Now she probably knows his body better than she knows her own.

She changes the bedding around him, heaving him this way and that, because he's still too weak to stand. Her stomach lurches as the acrid stench of sweat, vomit and urine hit her nostrils but she doesn't puke. "I've asked Simon to pick up some clean bedding if he can." she says, desperate to fill the silence with anything but all those things she doesn't want to think about.

She lifts his head gently and places a clean pillow underneath. He drops back with a sigh. His fists clench suddenly and she grabs for the bucket she keeps at the side of the bed but it's too let. A fresh stream of vomit splatters the side of the bed and his broad shoulders pull together as he heaves again. She bites back a hiss and reminds herself that it isn't his fault. He can't help it.

"Tori," he snarls desperately and she is stunned for a moment. It's the first time he's said her name, her name and not Chloe's. She grabs for his hand as another heave overwhelms him and she can feel the tension in his fingers as he tries not to break her bones.

"I'm sorry," he mutters. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head. "You don't have to be sorry. It's okay."

After a few more dry heaves, he settles down again. His eyes close and he starts to breathe deeply as he falls into sleep. She waits until his chest begins to rise and fall in a steady rhythm before she stands and walks to the window. She knows what she has become. A broken girl who used to be beautiful and strong and intelligent but now she's none of those things. He's ripped her to pieces, but even as she admits it she knows she can't change anything. She's still smart and strong enough to get away, to leave and disappear, let them take care of themselves but there's something more that is keeping her here.

She can hear her mother's voice, a permanent residence inside her head that she can't shake no matter how hard she tries. How long have you been this pathetic, Tori? How long since you washed your hair or had a shower or even had a proper meal, Tori? She rests her head against the cool glass and gives a weary sigh.

She's so goddam angry. Angry at the world, angry at the wolf in the bed who has torn her apart inside and out. She's angry at the others who dump their shit on her and never ask if she's okay too. And she can't wait to leave them. They don't deserve her help. He doesn't deserve her help. It's just a job. The most convenient situation for all of them. She doing what she has to do and when it's over she'll leave. Leave without a backward glance, and then she spots her reflection in the glass. The dark circles under her eyes, her busted lip, her bruised jaw bone. The evidence of every single sleepless night and desperate battle to help him and she can't deny it anymore. Not to herself.

Because she knows it's too much, too much sacrifice for such a lame excuse.

_**...**_


End file.
